


Tarnish

by helens78



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Body Paint, Break Up, Drabble Sequence, Knifeplay, M/M, Making Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-30
Updated: 2003-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sean and Viggo break up, things get more complicated and much, much harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking

Viggo doesn't know if he can do this scene. It's hard enough acting with Sean now without having to play such a difficult, emotional moment out.

As far as anyone can tell, this is just another scene to Sean. He's doing his job just fine. He always does.

Aragorn's breakdown, thank Christ, is scripted. Viggo isn't sure he can do this scene at all, and only the fact that he's allowed to break-- required to break-- is going to keep him going.

Sean is lying there, looking at him, and there's no light in his eyes.

Somehow, breaking is easy.


	2. Can't Not

Viggo watches Sean with Dominic. Watches Sean with Orlando. Watches Sean, the son of a _bitch_ , with Cate. He's fairly certain Sean knows he's watching, knows he still has Viggo's complete attention, but Sean isn't doing anything about it.

Viggo would love to think Sean is oblivious. He'd love to give Sean the benefit of the doubt and assume this is about carelessness and thoughtlessness, not about deliberate cruelty. But it might be worse if it were about carelessness and thoughtlessness. Because that would mean Sean never gave a damn at all.

Viggo watches Sean. Can't help it. Can't not.


	3. Remembering

Viggo knew about the landslide long before it hit the news. He remembers the way his heart raced when he first heard about it. He remembers the wave of terror, and that first night when he couldn't sleep. By the time it hit the papers, Viggo knew Sean was going to be fine. He knew Sean was coming back to him.

He keeps the clipping because he remembers that feeling. The pure, clear certainty that Sean was coming home. It hurts looking at it now. The relief hits, then the irony. He's not coming home. This isn't his home anymore.


	4. Berlin

Sean doesn't get _involved_ with people while filming. He'll meet people for drinks and friendly conversation, and a good hard fuck in someone's room isn't out of the question, either, but getting _involved_ \-- no.

Christian shakes his head at Sean as Sean is dressing.

"What?"

"What are you doing, Sean?"

"Meaning...?"

Christian rolls his eyes. "What are you doing here in Berlin when you're so hung up on him you can't see straight?" Sean ignores that entirely, so Christian barrels on. "What are you afraid of, Sean?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

Sean closes the door behind him. "Nothing," he murmurs. "Honestly, Christian."


	5. Ash

Viggo has a fire going, and he has a shoebox full of clippings and photos and scribbled notes. He's been sitting in front of the fire for a good half-hour, adding more wood here and there, watching the flames, definitely not thinking about the box and what's in it.

He can't do it. He can't turn these things to ash. He can't watch his memories curl into black cinders and blow away like so much dust. He wants to, wants to badly, but he can't.

The phone rings, and he stumbles to his feet to answer it.

"Yeah?"

"...it's me."


	6. Vacuum

_...it's me._

Viggo holds the phone to his ear, waiting for more. He can't seem to catch his breath. It's as if all the air in the room has vanished. His chest hurts.

He holds out for more. He's waiting for the next words. But sound is a matter of vibrations in the air; that's why sound doesn't travel in a vacuum. He can't breathe, so maybe there's no air. Maybe there's no way for the sound to get to him.

"Viggo?"

He takes a very small breath at that.

"Yeah?"

"I need to talk to you."

"...all right. When?"


	7. Quench

Viggo is early. He's been waiting at the restaurant for almost half an hour, on the off-chance Sean might come early, too. Sean is normally very punctual; Viggo normally operates on whatever time is handy, basing his arrival times on when he remembers he has an appointment.

Sean's punctuality has had Viggo sipping at a glass of water for half an hour. But then Sean appears and walks over to the table. And Viggo drinks in the sight of him, and remembers thirst.

"Hello," Viggo manages. He stands up.

Sean leans forward and kisses him. And the thirst is quenched.


	8. Expectations

Sean sits down across from Viggo, wondering if he should be here at all. Viggo's eyes are bright... maybe too bright. Sean was expecting him to look angry. He wasn't expecting to see the look in his eyes and _need_ to reach out for him. He wasn't expecting to _need_ that kiss.

Moreover, he wasn't expecting it to rock him so badly. To feel as if the earth had moved under his feet. He wasn't expecting to see the hurt and the hope on Viggo's face, and find himself wishing that the earth would open up and swallow him whole.


	9. Regards

It becomes obvious after a while that Sean isn't going to talk, so Viggo starts. "So." He clears his throat. "What have you been doing lately?"

Sean plays with his water glass a bit. "Finished my part of _Equilbrium._ Had a chance to meet a friend of yours."

"Christian? How is he?"

"He's fine." Sean smiles. "Sends his regards."

Viggo tips his water glass over. He curses, then picks it back up and blots at the water with his napkin. That smile...

Viggo sits back and tries not to clench his jaw. He knows exactly what that smile means.

 _Bastard._


	10. Napkin

Viggo twists his napkin in his hands, fingers digging into the woven fabric. It's stiff and rough and scratchy against his palms. It's distracting; he needs that now.

When dinner's over and Sean asks if Viggo has plans, if he'd like to go somewhere, Viggo tosses the napkin onto the table. It's twisted into a messy, crumpled knot, and the seam at one edge has been picked out.

When Sean puts his napkin down, he folds it into a neat square before tucking it under the edge of his plate. It looks perfectly fine.

Viggo is not at all surprised.


	11. Come In

Viggo can't quite pull in a full breath on the way back to his place. He has this feeling that any minute, Sean is going to say something-- something like "I don't love you, I'm only here to tie up loose ends." Or maybe they'll get there and Sean will say, "Really, I don't think there's much more to talk about; I should go."

When they arrive, Sean shuts off the engine and turns to Viggo.

"Am I still coming in, then?"

And Viggo's more afraid to say yes than he realized he would be. But he says it anyway.


	12. Untrustworthy

What Sean missed most about being in New Zealand was the feeling that he belonged here. The feeling that he was part of the Fellowship. And, of course, he knew that he was going to end up dying-- that the Fellowship would continue without him. He knew he would be leaving early.

He was the betrayer. The one who turned. The untrustworthy.

Sean is not a method actor. But he wonders now if Viggo's not the only one who's been too close to his role.

"I missed you," he blurts out.

Viggo stays quiet.

"I'm sorry."

"...damn right you are."


	13. Staying Put

It hurts. It shouldn't. He didn't come here thinking he'd get hurt, he didn't come here thinking he'd want to kiss Viggo, he didn't come here thinking anything would _happen_. He just wanted to apologize for hurting Viggo. For making it look like he'd promised more than he could give. For taking what was offered without looking at what it was worth.

"What else do you want me to say?" he asks.

Viggo's expression has gone slack, and he's standing with his arms loose at his sides, in Sean's room, shaking his head slightly. "Whatever you came here to say," he says quietly.

This isn't what Sean expected, either-- having to do all the work. He's made the apology; it wasn't enough. Now he doesn't know where to go from here.

"I came here to say I'm sorry," Sean says, and then stops abruptly; he's _said_ that already. What good is it going to do to keep going over it?

Viggo pauses, then slowly shoves his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "All right. Say what you didn't come here to say, then."

"What I didn't--? God, Viggo, do you _ever_ make sense?"

"No," Viggo says, very simply, with a small trace of a smile. And Sean is struck with the maddening urge to walk forward and pull him into his arms, kiss him again, and again, and not let go this time, just hang on until...

...he takes a step back and shakes his head. No. Not going there. Not doing that. No.

"No, I don't make sense," Viggo continues, leaning forward a bit, not taking that step but _leaning_ , "but at least I'm not running away from how I feel."

And it's on the tip of Sean's tongue to say _Who says I'm feeling anything?_, but...

...he doesn't.

"I'm here now," Sean says, and it's as if someone else is talking through him. That can't be him saying those words. Can it?

"And?" Viggo prompts, taking one step forward.

"And I'm here now," Sean repeats, more quietly, not knowing what else he can say.

"And?" Viggo fires back, with another step forward.

And those eyes of his. Blue and piercing, and _steady_. Very steady. The odd, unexpected confidence in Viggo gives Sean a hint of pause, and when Viggo takes the last step forward, closing the distance between them, Sean goes very still.

"Touch me," Viggo urges.

"Oh, God." And it's so heartfelt Sean feels his eyes start to burn.

" _Touch me._ " More urgently, more seriously.

"Please." But Sean doesn't take that step back. He could-- there's room-- but he doesn't want it. Doesn't want more distance between them. Can't close what little distance there is, but--

\-- Viggo takes Sean's hands in his and pulls them up, cups his face in them.

" _Ahh._ " Sean's eyes close; Viggo's stay steady.

"Now tell me what you didn't come here to tell me," Viggo whispers.

"I love you," Sean whispers. Later, he'll stare at the ceiling wondering where in God's green earth that came from. He doesn't get involved with people when he's filming. He doesn't let it mean more than just sex.

He doesn't fall in love anymore.

That's what it's about. He doesn't fall in love anymore. Doesn't fall in love, and especially doesn't fall in love with intense, artistic madmen who walk around Wellington barefoot and carry their swords around with them while filming.

Love is a story. Love has a beginning, and a middle, and an end. The reason so many fairy tales live with "happily ever after" is because it's only by fading to black when the feel of love is new that you can capture that "happily ever after" feeling and fool yourself into believing it lasts. Sean believes all of that. All of it.

And he's still completely shaken, standing here with his hands cupping Viggo's face, Viggo's hands holding his, having just said words he doesn't believe in and believes in completely.

"I love you," Viggo tells him, "but you knew that."

Sean is struck dumb. There's something trite and melodramatic that's supposed to happen when someone says "I love you" and the other person says it back. Something like hearts and flowers and violin music.

"Viggo, I can't--"

"Shut up, Sean."

"But I can't--"

"You're not running away again." It's almost, but not quite, his Aragorn voice. The one he uses to command armies. The one he'll use when he's King. "You're staying put."

Sean can't argue with that voice. He should. He can't.

"Tell me you're staying put."

"I'm staying put," Sean repeats.

"Tell me you love me."

His heart lurches, but he swallows and forces the words out anyway: "I love you."

Viggo leans forward, presses his lips to Sean's. "I love you," he murmurs, lips moving against Sean's, "and you're mine. You run away again and I'll track you down and fucking pin you to my bed, so don't even fucking think about it." His voice is soft, sweet, very steady, and Sean feels a shiver go up his spine from it. "Now tell me again."

"I love you," Sean murmurs, and this time it's easy. "I'm staying put."

"Damn right you are," Viggo tells him, and kisses him hard.


	14. Hunger

Starved. Famished. Sean is _ravenous_ , and with his appetite reawakened this way, it's so easy to say the words.

Or it would be, if his mouth weren't full.

Viggo watches him, eyes narrowed to slits, smiling. His fingers thread through Sean's hair, tease the nape of his neck, push Sean's mouth lower.

"Do I taste good?" he murmurs. "Do you want me to come for you?"

Sean lets out an answering affirmative moan, and his head bobs up and down in what Viggo can only assume is a nod. Viggo sighs, head tilting back, eyes closing, and satisfies Sean's hunger.


	15. On The Ceiling

They've been fucking so much since Sean came back that they've had to invent new positions to keep from overtaxing mucles. They've fucked on every piece of furniture in Viggo's house, and the floor, and if they could have attached themselves to the ceiling and fucked there, they would have done that, too.

Viggo's on his back, looking up at the ceiling, while Sean sits on him, riding him, their fingers entwined. He wonders what it would be like, fucking on the ceiling, upside-down. Would they feel constantly in danger of falling? Would that be any different than this, really?


	16. Keep Dreaming

"Christian wants to come out for a visit," Sean murmurs, head resting on Viggo's chest.

Viggo raises an eyebrow, allowing himself the reaction because Sean can't see it from his position. "And?"

"I'd like him to."

Viggo rolls his eyes, and this time he wouldn't care if Sean caught him doing it. "Keep going."

"...what?"

"You're going to have to _say_ it, Sean."

Sean sighs, a bit irritated now. "All right. He'd come out expecting to sleep with me, and I'd want to."

"Keep dreaming," Viggo murmurs, tightening his grip on Sean. "You're all mine."

"...oh," Sean says. And smiles.


	17. Now

"Now?" Sean asks, hopeful.

"No."

 _...later..._

"Now?"

"No."

 _...later still..._

"Viggo, please, now...?"

" _No._ "

God. Sean is going to go out of his mind.

"Viggo, please..."

"If I wanted to fuck you, you'd have your pants around your ankles and I'd be pushing you into the counter, Sean." Viggo's gaze flicks to Sean, and then back at his improvised paper-plate palette. He goes with red this time. "So stop asking."

Sean closes his eyes. He hisses as the brush comes into contact with his thigh again. Every touch is a teasing caress on skin that badly wants more.

"...please..."

"No."


	18. Blade

Things are better. Sean is back, _home_ , and Viggo breathes a sigh of contented satisfaction, knowing he's here to stay.

Still, after having his heart broken, Viggo remains just slightly uneasy about Sean's presence. He's here, he's here to stay, but Viggo needs more than just Sean's physical presence. He needs some kind of reassurance. Something solid. Something he can taste.

He comes up behind Sean while Sean is standing at the bathroom sink, shaving. Sean's eyes meet Viggo's, and Sean smiles at first. Then his eyes hold Viggo's, and his gaze turns curious.

Viggo's eyes are on Sean's blade.


	19. Veins

"What _exactly_ is it you're asking?" Sean asks, hand over Viggo's. He's frowning, just a bit, and his eyes are clouded with confusion.

"I'm asking if you've ever bled for one of your lovers," Viggo says, very quietly. "If you'd like to."

"God, Viggo-- do you mean something metaphorical, in the 'I'd die for you' vein, or...?"

"It's veins, yes, that I'm talking about, but no, I'm not being metaphorical about it." Viggo loosens his hand from Sean's grip and traces his fingertips up Sean's arm. "I'm asking if you'd bleed for me."

"I don't understand."

"I want to cut you."


	20. Cut Me

_I want to cut you._

Sean is startled.

Shaken.

Intrigued.

Interested.

Aroused.

Viggo's been holding something back, ever since Sean came home. Sean doesn't know what it is, but there's something missing. Something Sean probably wouldn't even have noticed, before, but now... now, he wants it. Needs it.

Whatever it is.

He pulls a red marker out of a desk drawer and scribbles two words on a sheet of paper. Goes to the table next to the telephone, takes a knife-replica letter opener, slams it through the paper and into the surface of the table. Message left, unmistakably.

 _Cut me._


	21. Favor

The uncertainty is a warm, aching knot in the pit of Viggo's stomach; having made a promise like this, having had it accepted, he needs to follow through.

Then it's a question of who to turn to for it. A number of possibilities come to mind and are quickly discarded.

Cate.

There's one.

Viggo knocks on her door. When she answers, he skips the preamble. "I need a favor," he tells her.

"Of course," Cate says, smiling. "Come in, won't you?"

Viggo does. "It's about Sean."

"What do you need?"

"I need you to teach me how to cut him."


	22. Offerings

Sean understands the cuts on Viggo's arm. He knows what they're for; knows how Viggo got them.

Sean's never bled for a lover before. He's had lovers who were into that sort of thing, but he'd never wanted to offer. Now, though... there's something different about the way Viggo asked. He knows what he's going to be giving Viggo through this, and yes, yes, he does want it.

And he's glad. He's glad to be making up for some of the hell he put Viggo through. He's offering his blood. He's going to deserve this. It's going to be beautiful.


End file.
